Therapeutic Gardening

There are lots of reminders here in Bundibugyo that life is fragile. Emaciated babies in the pediatric ward at the health center. A phone call from a referral patient's mother--the child died of pneumonia in Kampala. Rumors of a cholera outbreak in the area as a measles epidemic winds down.

In a place where life is difficult and often far outside of my control, I have found some ways of coping. I obviously find myself running to Jesus more often here. But there are other things too--like cooking. Oh how I love to cook here! The absence of convenience foods or even semi-prepared foods forces you to learn to cook from scratch. And the kitchen is my sanctuary. There is something comforting about mindlessly chopping vegetables at the end of the day to unwind. Listening to my iPod as I create a delicious reward for making it through another day.

I've recently discovered another therapeutic activity--working in my garden. I first attempted flower gardening when I was in the U.S. last summer. Stuck at home, not feeling well, processing the life change of cancer, I was encouraged as I watched the seedlings I planted turn into big, beautiful, healthy flowers. I needed a sign of new life as I was fighting for my own to return.

Here my desire for fresh vegetables (that aren't available) and feeling a sense of accomplishment as things grew led me to plant a garden. First, I had to fence in an area so that our dogs wouldn't run through it or sit on the seedlings. They seemed to think their job was to incubate the tiny little shoots by firmly planting their butts on top of them. Not helpful--they're plants, not eggs. That aside, I employed some neighborhood kids to put up a fence and turn the earth a bit.

I longingly thought of Willy's Gardening Center at home as I planted each item from seed, rather than waltzing in and buying trays of already growing plants. But now, about three months after my first round of planting, I noticed some fruit for my labors last night! Photos are below (mostly for my mom but you can check them out too :)

There is something wonderful about going out and digging in the garden; working up a sweat not just from standing still but from actually working hard. Seeing green shoots magically sprout up a week after planting seeds. Ripping out the weeds that just love to take over here in the jungle. And when I take that first bite of fresh green beans, a sun-ripened tomato, or crunchy okra, I think it will taste extra delicious since it came from a seed I planted!

the garden--complete with locally made fence

baby green beans!

baby cucumber!

Moringa--the miracle tree

green tomatoes

tiny okra

enjoying a sunflower bloom inside

and a zinnia for good measure

And something else that makes me super, duper happy: a new ceiling fan installed by Josh!

Staying in Bubandi

Last week I was able to spend 4 days in Bubandi with my Ugandan mother, Joyce. She and I got to know each other pretty well when I was in Bundibugyo before and I hadn’t spent much time with her since I’ve been back. I was excited to not only spend time with her but stay at her home “out in the bush”. When I returned 4 days later, Nyahuka looked like an absolute, buzzing metropolis. My time spent with her included:

• Learning how to cook over an open fire. And struggling to withstand the wood smoke in her chimney-less, windowless kitchen. I think I smelled like a campfire for about 2 days after getting back but I was proud of myself when I made lunch for us on my last day.

• Wearing Joyce’s shiny, silky too-big-for-me long sleeved shirt. It is rainy season here and the mosquitoes were relentless but I had forgotten to bring a long sleeved shirt. Thanks to Mama Joyce’s shirt I didn’t get completely eaten!
• Visiting friends and being introduced as her daughter. People were warm and welcoming (as Ugandans are) and were duly impressed by my limited Lubwisi.
• Chatting while washing a mountain of dishes and leaving them to dry in the sun.
• Listening to rats rustling around her house and night and telling Joyce that I was terrified of them. She found this quite hilarious. She told me her great fear was of chameleons. I found this quite hilarious. After getting very little sleep the first night, I wore earplugs the following nights and tucked my mosquito net in very tight. I slept better :)
• Realizing as we talked how it really is true that everyone is related here. I thought small-town Maryland was bad but it’s crazy!
• Listening to one of the two local stations that broadcasts in Lubwisi—the Voice of Bundibugyo, 93.0 FM. The radio was on a lot. Most songs I didn’t recognize, let alone understand. But at one point Maroon 5 came on. A nice surprise.
• Shading with Owen and Marvin, two little boys that I think are Joyce’s nephews.

• Laughing with Joyce about Nabalongo’s picky eating habits. She is Joyce’s elderly mother and after her many years on this earth, she knows what foods she likes and how she likes them. She is an incredibly sweet lady who only speaks Lubwisi. I wish I could talk with her more and hear her story—she has lived in the bush of Uganda her whole life, was a co-wife, survived Idi Amin and a war. And those are just the things I know of.

• Explaining a microwave to Joyce. Not sure how we got on the subject but she was shocked by the idea of it taking less than one hour to cook a meal!

Loss and Weariness

“No chilling winds nor poisonous breath can reach that healthful shore; sickness sorrow, pain and death are felt and feared no more. I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promised Land.” –On Jordan’s Stormy Banks

This week has been characterized by loss. It began on Monday morning; I was in Bubandi staying with my friend Joyce and got a phone call. Our beloved dog, Jesse, had died in the night. She died heroically—killing a 6 foot cobra in our yard. Jesse was a truly African dog who protected us with her howling and her snake killing skills. Chloe, her mother and companion, has been subdued and sad this week too. I went out to tell Joyce about the sad news of Jesse and she told me of a neighbor’s toddler who died at the health center on Sunday night too. My sadness over Jesse was quickly put in perspective.

I attended the burial of the toddler and later found out that the child died of pneumonia—something kids just don’t die of in America. She could have been saved too but the night shift nurse didn’t show at the health center so no one knew that her condition worsened during the night. Sadness at the brokenness of the system here and realizing it does indeed result in lost lives.

Wednesday I went to visit my friend Annette. She had been “in the village” visiting her family because of an aunt’s lost battle with cancer. Cancer is not really curable here. Not only did she attend the burial of her aunt but another aunt died the next day. And two days later a baby in the same family died of malaria. So, so sad.

Last night the Johnson’s baby bunny was acting lethargic and strange; “rabbit in shock” was googled and attempts to save the bunny were made but I learned this morning that it died. Not an hour later I got a phone call. A friend of mine who is just a few years younger than me lost her father last night. He was a businessman and driver, delivering goods all across Uganda. The rumors are that he fell asleep at the wheel of his truck and drove off the road. Whatever happened, he is gone, and my heart ached for my friend imagining the shock and grief she experienced this morning.

School begins here on Monday and the requests at the door have become more numerous and more frantic as the week has worn on. Many people have true needs and no one to help them. Others have family that can help them but they try “the whites” first. Many have relationships with missionaries that have been here in the past and they want me to be a liaison, sending their requests to them. It is exhausting to hear each person’s story, sift through fact and fiction, and most of the time, have to say “no” and see disappointment.

Add to that my own problem of now being a 23 year old “cancer survivor/patient”. My health insurance through WHM has changed in the last few months--none of my doctors are in network anymore and the deductible has quadrupled. Trying to navigate insurance in the U.S. was challenging enough last year; but with a new policy and trying to do it in the bush of Uganda, it is near impossible. Many emails sent, struggles to figure out if the hard-to-procure prep drugs I’ll need in August for a post-treatment scan will be available or not, whether they’ll be covered by insurance or not, just how much money this will all cost. All of it is annoying. The true blow: being reminded that “cancer” is now attached to all medical records at age 23; an age when many of my friends haven’t seen a doctor for anything more than the flu in the last two years.

Watched “God Grew Tired of Us” this afternoon; still not sure if it was a good idea or not. Either way, it is a fabulous documentary about Sudan’s Lost Boys that you should watch. But today, it left me feeling sad and a little distraught. I think it is the first time that I’ve seen it since living in Africa. It was strange to feel like I connected more with the scenes that took place in Sudan than the ones in the U.S. Between all the loss this week has brought, the many struggles that I’m surrounded by here, my own challenges, and being reminded of the pain around the globe, I find myself weary.

I am weary and I find myself asking the so common question “How can a loving God allow such pain and heartache in this world?” I don’t have an answer to that question. But I am certain of one thing right now—this world is not my home. I am weary but I eagerly anticipate going home, where the struggles are finished and the tears are wiped away.

Total Stream of Consciousness

It’s Friday night and it’s been a busy week. I’d love to share some thoughts but I can’t organize them into a cohesive post. So prepare yourself for my stream of consciousness post!

-Had two really great conversations with Ugandans here in Bundi this week. Both included thoughts about sustainability of projects, the move in our team focus from aid toward development, and honesty about struggles that being a “mzungu” brings and the struggles of our Ugandan brothers and sisters.

-A series of sad sights on Thursday: seeing a girl having a seizure on the side of the road and not being sure of how to help; knowing she likely doesn’t have access to the medicines that epileptic children could get in America. A severely malnourished boy at the health center; unsure of his age but probably around 10 years old--bald, lacking pigment, vacant and curled up, a living skeleton. The pediatric ward was overflowing with patients too—many on mattresses on the floor—due to a measles outbreak and it currently being the “hungry season” here.

-Stood in line at the ATM for 1.5 hours on Wednesday. I arrived and the machine was out of money. After it was loaded with money, the line in front of me quickly grew from 5 people to about 15, as people came out of no where to “resume” their places in line. Every person had their ATM card plus 5-10 of their friends, resulting in many transactions and very little movement in the line. I finally made it to the front and actually entered the little room with the ATM in it. 2 men plus the security guard joined me in the room (banking is rarely a private affair here). I managed to get some money out using my card but by the time I got my teammate’s card in the machine, it was out of money. Bummer. Oh how I miss drive thru ATMs.

-Other conveniences I miss include: a washer and dryer, highways, a dishwasher, take-out restaurants, and buying produce that doesn’t require haggling.

-I’m noticing more people saying “Amaaniye Lubwisi” (she knows Lubwisi) when I talk with them in the road. I rarely feel like I’m making any progress in language learning but I do catch more and more words and I can communicate some very basic ideas (even if they aren’t conjugated correctly).

-Having relationships with the caretakers of my referral patients is an unexpected blessing. I saw Silivano’s father in town and had a nice talk with him as we walked in the same direction for a bit. Also met a grandfather whose granddaughter was referred to another city for physical therapy after having bacterial meningitis and seizures. Found out he is a believer and regular attender at Mt. Zion church; a small town just keeps getting smaller!

-Went to the market on Thursday and tried to buy mangoes (so happy for mango season!). Realized after putting a bunch in my bag that I couldn’t pay for them. Not because I didn’t have money but because I only had a very large denomination bill (worth about $8) and the total for the mangoes came to 40 cents. Getting change is not easy here; 3rd world problems, as some might say.

-On Tuesday night, a friend working for Pamela notified us that we had a bit of a “red ant problem”. In fact, there were thousands of safari ants clustered on the rocks outside our kitchen door.We called Josh for help and since we were out of paraffin, he loaded pure gasoline in a spray bottle, lit a match, and burned the ants. It was quite therapeutic to spray the gas, watch the fire “poof!”, and know the biting ants were gone.

-After a long and busy week filled with meetings, many knocks at the door,and a myriad of difficult requests to consider, I’m looking forward to a 4 day homestay with my Ugandan mother, Joyce, starting tomorrow. She lives in the village where it is peaceful, quiet, and few people know me (yet). I’m excited to immerse myself in Ugandan life, hopefully learn some Lubwisi, and to have some quiet time praying with Mama Joyce.

CSB Sponsor Needs

Christ School Bundibugyo is a truly remarkable ministry. Hundreds of students have received a quality education taught with a Biblical worldview since it was founded in the 1990s by World Harvest Mission. Over the last several years leadership of the school has transitioned into Ugandan hands and it has continued to bear fruit. This year the school’s exam scores were the highest they have ever been and both the girls and boys football teams competed in nationals!

Bundibugyo is a place where every family struggles to find the resources to provide their children with an education. Few girls have the opportunity to attend secondary school and children who have lost their father or both parents have little to no chance of attending. Since the formation of Christ School, the OVC (Orphan and Vulnerable Child) Sponsorship Program has also been in existence. The program gives students who show academic promise and do not have a parent to pay tuition the chance to attend secondary school.

The OVC program has been producing many successful graduates from the school, some of whom are teachers there now. Others have pursued careers in medicine, agriculture, social work, or business; often working to benefit their home of Bundibugyo. Christ School as a whole is working to empower the next generation of Bundibugyo to bring forth the kingdom. The OVC Program is a special way to empower the disadvantaged who still show great promise.

Each year, approximately 60 students are sponsored by Americans through the OVC Program (10 from each grade level). Each of these students has a unique story of struggle and heartbreak but they also have hope and plans for the future. We currently are in dire need of sponsors; 21 students are looking for someone to partner with them through their education. Would you consider investing in one of these students? The cost of sponsoring a student for a year is only $1.65 per day. Prayerfully consider how you might be a part of this movement to bring renewal and hope to Bundibugyo and click here to learn more about how to give.

8 of the 10 S1 (freshman) students that need sponsors.

CSB Football Champions!

Christ School is a wonderful part of my life here. And I am so happy that the football (read: soccer) teams are doing so well this year! I loved watching several games of the season...the enthusiasm is contagious! Both CSB girls and boys football teams are playing at nationals now which is fantastic! But it costs money :) Read my team leader's blog post to learn more here!

The Sting of Reality

Coming back to Bundibugyo after some time away usually results in a bit of a slump on return. The post-Kampala funk is nothing new and is not surprising. Leaving a wonderland of restaurants, unlimited internet, well-stocked grocery stores, and anonymity in a crowd to return to a place that is well…none of the above can be hard. Reality has a tendency to slap ya in the face when you come back. It seems like the slap was extra hard this time though.

There were a lot of little annoyances that quickly added up to feeling overwhelmed upon returning home. Opened the back door to the car to unload the mounds of bags and boxes (2 month grocery supply included) and there is a white liquid dripping. Milk. Apparently some of the frozen, bagged milk I had bought had not only thawed but the bag had broken and dripped over everything. Walk in the house. Power is out. Bummer. Deep breath and begin tackling the job of unpacking everything alone (I’ve been spoiled by two great housemates), jamming stuff into the freezer and realizing it just won’t all fit. Look through the pantry and realize a rat is on the loose in the house. A few hours later…rat is located in the office due to scratching coming from under the desk. Don’t have the heart to search it out and bludgeon it to death alone.

Meanwhile, my new neighbor, Truffle the cow, is mooing like the sky is falling down around her. Truth of the matter: she is in heat and apparently cows in heat make a lot of noise. The things I never thought I’d learn on the mission field! All I know is that I’m not thrilled when she moos at 1 am and earplugs don’t drown it out. Power comes on and then the outlets in our house mysteriously stop working. My teammate, Josh, investigates and realizes there is an issue in our electrical box that could result in a fire if not fixed. My power is turned off for safety. I’m exhausted and to what do my fatigued eyes do appear? A gigantic cockroach on the head of my toothbrush.

While all of these things took place over a 48 hour period, you may see why I wasn’t feeling particularly joyful this morning. Rats, spilled milk, electricity (or lack thereof), and cockroaches can all be day-ruiners. But a SMS I received on Saturday morning is probably the real reason for my funk.

Silivano, the 5 year old boy I had referred to Mulago Hospital died on Friday night. I had just visited him on Tuesday since I had been in Kampala. He was clearly sick but I was looking into getting free housing for him and his father while they pursued treatment for his bone marrow failure. I gave him some small gifts and he seemed to particularly like the purple matchbox car. I took a photo of him, with plans to post it here and ask for prayer for him. I had a good talk with his dad and told him my own story of illness and how Silivano had a special place in my heart.

Silivano’s death is another bitter reminder of the brokenness of this world. I am grieving but I’m sure my sadness is a fraction of his parents’. Tonight as I think about it all, I find reasons to be thankful though. I am thankful that this world is not our home; that Silivano is no longer suffering; that one day death will lose its sting. I am thankful that God brought me through cancer so that I would be passionate about advocating for sick kids from Bundibugyo. I am thankful for the gifts that God has blessed me with throughout the past few days: electricity, a quiet evening (free of mooing), ripe mangoes, conversations with friends over sodas, cool mornings, watching a little boy dance in worship at church, 30 Rock and Modern Family, reading the Bible--coffee in hand. I find it easy to question God when slapped in the face with the pain and brokenness of this earth. But finding some things to thank him for is the antidote to the slump tonight.